


Take a Shot at Love

by JennaGill



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, skeet!everlark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 05:39:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaGill/pseuds/JennaGill
Summary: Katniss is new in town and Peeta is her range guide.





	Take a Shot at Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThirtySomething](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySomething/gifts).



> Encouragement from Tumblr users papofglencoe and notanislander led to part 1 of skeet!Everlark in 2015 and part 2 in 2018, as a gift for ThirtySomething.

“You sure they’ll let me use my bow?” I ask Gale.

“Yeah, we don’t even need to take our weapons inside to check in, so you won’t get any static until possibly out on the skeet course,” he says as we hop out of his truck.

I follow him inside the facility. There’s an obscene amount of deer antlers and other woodland creatures stuffed and on display. I shiver at the excess, but what else should I expect from a place called ‘Capitol Hunting Club’. Hunting is not for sport and trophies, it’s for survival.

“Two for the skeet course,” Gale tells the lady behind the counter as my eyes continue to roam the store. Rifles and shotguns line the back wall, handguns and other pistols are in cases. I don’t even see a compound or recurve bow in the place.

“That’ll be $21.00, I just need to see some ID,” she says.

I hand over my out-of-state ID as Gale slides across his new license. He moved here after school and I’m only visiting. He’s taking me to all of his favorite places and I’m not all that impressed thus far.

We make our way out the skeet course. It’s at the end of the lane and it’s brutally hot out here.

There’s already a group on the course, so we wait our turn. And attendant follows around two older men. They are shooting over under shotguns, with really elaborate scrollwork that glints in the sunlight. Their cigar smoke mixes with gunfire in the air and they can’t seem to finish soon enough.

Gale takes out his sawed off shotgun I know found at a local show, “Betcha I can out shoot those $5,000 guns with my baby I picked up for $200,” he wages.

I side eye the men, and think that’s a huge waste when the attendant catches my eye. I give him a double take. He’s cute with blond curls peeking out from his hideous safety orange cap. The glare from the matching vest isn’t much competition for his freckles and pink cheeks. Almost as if he feels me watching him, he turns and flashes the deepest blue pair of eyes I’ve ever seen. I had previously thought Prim held the record for the prettiest eyes, but not anymore.

He turns back to the shooters on the course and finishes out their round. He’s carrying a contraption to fire the clays when they’re ready, one from the high house and one from the low. They finish up soon enough and he hands them their score cards.  
I reach behind the bench of Gale’s truck for my bow and pause, checking my reflection for any food in my teeth. My braid is a mess and my white t-shirt is already beginning to stick to the small of my back, but I’m otherwise presentable.

I’ve made sure to bring arrows specifically designed to shatter the clay targets, though I haven’t actually done this before. How much harder can it been than bringing down birds in flight though?

The attendant disappears into the high house to replace the clays. He tromps down the stairs with a heavy tread and crosses the course to do the same in the low house. Only this time, I’m treated to a view of him squatting down to stack in the orange discs. His stocky frame and broad chest tapers down to a trim waist and shapely rear end. I think I’m caught staring when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Whoa, are you going to shoot that?” he asks.

“Yeah, I mean, I thought it would be okay – there weren’t any signs telling me I couldn’t,” I stammer.

“No, it’s not typical – but it’s totally badass. The odds are in my favor today!”

I stand at the first station near the high house, noting that the lay will be flying from left to right and give him my ‘ready’ signal. Even as I pull back on the bow, I know something is wrong. The arrow is heavier than the ones I use at home. I miss the clay by a few inches and lose what little attention I had been commanding from him. For a moment, I’m humiliated.

“That’s okay, you get a few more from his position. I’ll let you know how many at each stop. It’s harder than it looks, that’s for sure,” the attendant says with a small smile.

I know it’s in kindness, but I’m furious with myself. I still my nerves, take a deep breath, and reload before I get any more comments, “PULL!”

The arrows flies directly to its target and the clay falls to the ground in pieces. I get two more from the low house and even with the change in flight direction, I don’t miss.

Gale stands up on the first position and yells, “Pull.” His target flies out of the house on the same trajectory and even he misses his first shot. He misses his second as well and the attendant and I steal a glance between us. Gale starts to curse as he reloads his pump action shotgun. I snicker and the attendant stifles a laugh, but his smile is infectious and we’re both trying to swallow down our giggling fit. My eyes are still roaming him and I note that he doesn’t have a name tag.

Gale manages to nail the next two. We move along the course in counter-clockwise fashion and we’re neck and neck the rest of the stations in scoring.

“Wow – that’s incredible, I mean, your shooting,” the attendant rambles.

“Thanks, I hunt back home,” I offer.

“Back home? So you don’t live around here?” he asks with a sudden air of disappointment in his tone.

“No, but I’m thinking about moving here, for work,” I add.

“Oh you definitely should, and please come back here!” he says with newfound enthusiasm.

Gale and I load up the truck and head away from the range.

“That guy was extra chatty today,” Gale notes as he hop back in the truck.

“Oh really?” I say absently, lost in thought I look down at the scorecard he handed me and smile.

_24/25 Nice shooting! Call me sometime, Peeta 451-1212_


End file.
